


Unexpected

by lockheed_london



Series: Unexpected [1]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 11:14:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lockheed_london/pseuds/lockheed_london
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fill for <a href="http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/4885.html?thread=8640533#cmt8640533">this prompt</a> at the <a href="http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org">Cabin Pressure prompt meme</a> on Dreamwidth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the OP for such a great prompt!
> 
>  **Warnings:** As per the prompt, there’s the implied threat of non-con, but nothing happens.

Martin supposed that Douglas would say it was his usual bad luck. Although this time he might be willing to acknowledge that possibly, just possibly, he should have paid more attention to small print on the information leaflet in his newly prescribed box of pills. But damn it, he’d been in too much of a hurry to read it straight away, and then he had completely forgotten about it.

The side-effects of the suppressant pills he’d previously been on had finally grown bad enough that Martin – tired of being constantly exhausted and unable to put on weight – had made a doctor’s appointment to request a prescription for the new suppressant that had just been released, amid much pharmaceutical fanfare. The doctor had been running late, which meant that Martin was already late for a van job he’d scheduled for straight after, so he didn’t pay as much attention as he ought to have done to what the doctor was saying.

All of which meant that, six weeks later, when he began to feel overheated and vaguely nauseous in the tiny flight deck then it took him a while to think of checking the information leaflet in his pill packet rather than blaming Arthur’s attempt at catering. He had to wait until Douglas was out of the flight deck – his omega status was something he’d successfully managed to keep secret from his colleagues, thanks to alpha-scented shower gel – before scrabbling in his flight bag. His fingers closed around the small box, buried right at the bottom of the bag, and he pulled it out and read the flimsy crumpled sheet of medical information. His stomach turned over, and for a moment he thought he might throw up all over the instrument panel.

 _While this pill suppresses ovulation,_ it read, _please note that it does not suppress any other aspects of the omega cycle, and users will find they experience heat as normal._

Martin stared at it in mounting horror, willing the neat black type to change, but it remained as it was and when the door handle to the flight deck turned he quickly shoved the paper into his inside jacket pocket. Douglas came back in, sat down, and glanced at Martin before frowning curiously.

‘You’re looking a bit peaky,’ he remarked. ‘You feeling okay? Was Arthur’s attempt at paella too much for you?’

‘Yes,’ Martin lied, seizing the offered excuse. ‘Yes, actually, it was a bit…’

His stomach gave a loud gurgle, almost a cue, and he winced at a painful twist low in his guts.

‘You have control.’ Martin nodded in the direction of the door. ‘I just have to go and… I need to…’

‘I have control,’ Douglas repeated. ‘Go on. You look dreadful.’

Martin spent a miserable few hours in Gerti’s tiny toilet for the remainder of the flight as the cramps worsened. Bloody omega biology; at least he was lucky that the early symptoms of heat so closely mimicked those of food poisoning, his body emptying itself so that there would be nothing to impede his alpha’s sperm reaching the cervical opening for fertilisation. At least _that_ wasn’t going to happen, Martin thought savagely, gritting his teeth as another painful spasm wracked him.

He made it back to the flight deck for the landing, which Douglas took, and bit the inside of his cheek at every bounce and jolt along the tarmac. Eventually they stopped, and Douglas glanced at him ruefully.

‘Just plain water for you tonight, I think,’ he said. Martin made a feeble noise of agreement, but before either of them could move the flight deck door opened and Arthur’s face peered anxiously around it.

‘Oh _Skip_.’ He sounded almost heartbroken. ‘I’m so sorry; Douglas told me and I don’t know how I could have been so stupid. Are you feeling _very_ bad? You look awful.’

‘It’s fine,’ Martin said weakly. He wasn’t about to confess the real reason, but neither did he want Arthur blaming himself. From the look on his face Douglas had clearly had sharp words with him.

‘I just don’t understand,’ Arthur continued. ‘I mean, I had the same thing and I’m fine, so I don’t–’

‘As I think we’ve already established, Arthur,’ Douglas said, ‘you have the digestion of a camel.’

Arthur came closer, and Martin was quick to lift a hand to fend him off. Arthur, unlike as it seemed, was an alpha, albeit the nicest and least-assertive one that Martin had ever met, and Martin was suddenly terrified that his omega pheromones were going to start leaking through the alpha-scented shower gel he used.

‘Let’s just get to the hotel,’ he said, and Arthur retreated, nodding readily.

‘Alright Skip, whatever you want.’

***

The taxi ride to the hotel was its own kind of torture and Martin curled in on himself, squeezed into a corner of the back seat while Arthur sat up front and commented on places they passed, and Douglas sat on the other side of the back seat and pretended not to watch Martin.

 _Almost there_ , Martin told himself silently. _Almost there, and then you can lock yourself in your hotel room and deal with this alone._

He hadn’t had a heat for years, thanks to his previous pills, and he’d forgotten how it felt at the beginning: the shaky, half-sick feeling of it. He scrambled out of the car when they arrived, and Douglas glanced at him but said nothing as they made their way to the main reception.

‘Hello there.’ The receptionist smiled at them and, when Martin stayed silent and shivering, Douglas stepped forward smoothly.

 _Not long now… nearly there…_ Martin shut his eyes and concentrated on breathing deeply until he heard the receptionist say ‘Yes, here we are. Two ground floor rooms, a single and a twin.’

‘No,’ he blurted, stepping forward.

‘Excuse me?’ Douglas raised his eyebrows.

‘No, we need to be higher up.’

‘Martin, have you gone utterly out of your senses? What earthly difference does it make how high up we are?’

Not the ground floor, he couldn’t be on the ground floor, he wanted to be able to open the window for some fresh air without worrying about passers-by catching the scent of an omega in heat.

‘Please,’ he said desperately. ‘Douglas, _please_.’

‘Alright.’

Douglas gave him a narrow-eyed look that said they were going to be discussing this later, but turned back to the desk to re-negotiate; Martin listened in relief as he got them rooms on the sixth floor, and all but ran to the lifts to get up there.

‘Tired, are we?’ Douglas commented on the way up, while Arthur tested the springiness of the seats in the lift, and Martin looked away.

‘Yes.’ He faked an unconvincing yawn. ‘Exhausted.’

‘Mmm.’

On the sixth floor Douglas handed Arthur a key for the twin room and he took it without a murmur of protest. Even through his anxiety Martin had to smile: good old Arthur, cheerfully taking whatever life threw at him.

‘Coming, Skip?’ he asked, jingling the key.

Martin licked his lips. ‘In a moment. I’ll be right there.’

Douglas started walking in the opposite direction, toward the single room, and Martin fell into step beside him. Douglas glanced sideways at him.

‘I think you’ll find that I won the word game,’ he said. ‘Which I believe means that your bed for the night lies in that direction.’

He nodded back towards Arthur as he stopped by a door, double-checked the key tag number, and unlocked it.

‘About that…’ Douglas withdrew the key and Martin suddenly leaned forward and plucked it out of his hands. ‘I need this room tonight.’

Douglas gaped at him in shock, and Martin took advantage of his distraction to squirrel the key away in an inside pocket.

‘I _assure_ you–’ Douglas began, and Martin tried to dart into the room but Douglas grabbed his arm, fingers gripping almost cruelly tight. Martin tried not to flush at the contact; God knew Douglas was attractive and Martin had harboured a hopeless crush on him for ages now, but he worked some saliva into his suddenly-dry mouth and told himself that this really _wasn’t_ the time.

‘ _Martin_ ,’ Douglas growled. ‘Enough. I won this fair and square, and you–’

‘Please,’ Martin said, giving up all attempts at forcefulness. ‘Douglas, please, I feel rotten and I just want to go to bed; please let me have this, I’ll give you anything you want in return.’

Douglas frowned a little, studying Martin’s face. None of it was a lie: he really did feel terrible and bed was most certainly on the cards for at least the next day, it not two. Carolyn would be annoyed that he wasn’t in a fit state to fly tomorrow, but he’d have to make up some excuse. He certainly ought to be able to sound miserable enough on the phone to convince her; Martin thought of the box of sex toys at the back of his wardrobe, unused for all the time he’d been on his old suppressants, and sagged unhappily at the dim memories of how unpleasant it was to go through heat without a single toy to help relieve the deep-seated ache inside him.

‘Alright,’ Douglas said abruptly. He let go of Martin’s arm and gave him a rough clap on the shoulder. ‘Fine. But only because you’re ill and because, quite frankly, you look wretched.’

‘Really? Oh God, thank you, thank you–’

‘Yes, yes, alright.’ Douglas looked slightly uncomfortable. ‘Contrary to expectations I’m not actually a heartless bastard.’

Martin scurried into the room, half-closing the door behind him before Douglas changed his mind, and then stopped as a thought struck him.

‘Douglas…’ he began hesitantly. ‘I need… I need a favour.’

Douglas tilted his head in mute enquiry, frowning faintly.

‘Can you… please could you bring me something to eat? Please? I can’t… I don’t really want to go out, with… you know.’

He gestured vaguely in the direction of the bathroom and Douglas’ slight frown cleared.

‘Oh, alright,’ he sighed. ‘What do you want?’

‘Bottled water, fruit juice, bananas, some dried fruit and nuts if you can find it. Bread, apples. And some crackers,’ Martin said quickly. Best not plan on leaving the room for a couple of days.

But Douglas was staring at him and frowning again.

‘Martin, you _can’t_ be ill if you want all of that,’ he said. ‘For God’s sake, you’re only missing dinner for the evening. What the hell’s going on?’

Oh God, now he sounded angry. Martin tried to close the door, stiffening his spine and forcing himself to stand up straight rather than flinching, but Douglas caught the edge of the door easily and Martin couldn’t stop himself shying away,

‘What in blazes…’ Douglas stepped into the room and Martin skittered back a few paces, acting almost wholly on instinct. ‘Stand still, for goodness’ sake. You’re a bit poorly but it’s not life-threatening, and yet you’re acting like some frightened ome–’

Douglas stopped short as realisation hit; Martin could see it dawn in his eyes and he briefly closed his own in despair.

‘I’m an omega,’ he snapped, opening his eyes in time to catch Douglas looking absolutely thunderstruck for the first time in their acquaintance, and regretted vaguely that he wasn’t better in a position to appreciate it. ‘There, happy now? And I’m going into… into…’

‘You’re about to go into heat?’ Douglas supplied, and exhaled noisily at Martin’s embarrassed nod. ‘Christ, Martin, of all the bloody times–’

‘Oh, shut up,’ Martin spat. ‘I changed my _fucking_ suppressants last month and the ones the doctor gave me don’t work properly.’

At Douglas’ enquiring look he sighed and said ‘They stop conception but not the rest of it,’ as he waved a hand at himself helplessly. The cramps had stopped, thank goodness, butt he was beginning to feel the faintest beginnings of a long-forgotten heaviness winding low in his guts.

‘The omega rights movement have decided that omegas ought to be able to reclaim part of their natural cycles if they want to, rather than suppressing them completely,’ he snarled. ‘They’ve been pressuring the pharmaceutical industry to come up with something. Why the fuck anyone would want to reclaim something so uncomfortable and _degrading_ , though, I don’t–’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Douglas said, cutting into his tirade. He quirked an eyebrow. ‘It can be quite fun, with the right person.’

Martin looked away, his mouth twisting. That was just what he needed right now, a reminder that Douglas was an alpha – a _real_ one – who’d doubtless been with dozens of omegas.

‘Why don’t you…’ Douglas tipped his head pointedly towards the door.

‘What?’ Martin asked.

Douglas rolled his eyes. ‘Come on, a nice young thing like you; why don’t you find yourself an alpha and spend it with them?’

 _Because I don’t_ want _those other alphas_ , Martin thought despairingly, looking at the breadth of Douglas’ shoulders and his brown eyes warm with concern. Aloud he said: ‘Well, I’ve… I just don’t… go with anyone. During… you know.’

Surely it must be his imagination, there was really no reason for Douglas to look momentarily disappointed.

‘Well,’ Douglas said at last. ‘Okay then.’

He left, closing the door carefully behind him, and Martin went limp with relief. Alone at last, he quickly stripped out of his uniform, taking care to hang it up, and went to take a shower. The re-circulated air in the plane always left him feeling sticky and in need of a shower and that seemed to go double today; he felt tense and vaguely shivery all over, and even the warm water couldn’t comfort him when he thought of the unpleasant couple of days ahead of him.

He put on a soft, worn T-shirt and his pyjama bottoms when he got out, although doubtless they’d be coming off soon enough, and he was still towelling his hair when there was a sharp rap on the door.

He walked over to open it, and Douglas entered with a promisingly full carrier bag.

‘Alright, here you are,’ Douglas said, dropping the bag on the room’s small desk. ‘I got you what I could, it should be enough to keep you going for a couple of days.’

‘Marvellous, thank you.’

Unthinking, Martin crossed the room to stand next to him and look down at the pile that represented his rations for the coming days, and Douglas inhaled deeply.

‘Good God,’ he said, on an exhale. ‘You really _are_ an omega, aren’t you?’

‘Of course,’ Martin said absently, turning over packets of dried fruit and pulling out bottles of fruit juice. ‘Why on earth would I lie about something so inconvenient?’

Douglas hesitated, then asked ‘Have you ever been with anyone during your heat? At all?’

Martin froze, the hair on his nape prickling warningly.

‘No,’ he said, looking up at Douglas. ‘Never.’

It wasn’t his imagination, Douglas actually looked aroused, and Martin quashed the leap of his stomach and told himself that it wasn’t _him_ , not really, it was just his natural scent without the masking effect of the shower gel he normally used. Organic, non-synthetic omega pheromones sold for hundreds of pounds a bottle on the black market.

‘Thank you,’ he said, and took a step backwards. He swallowed, trying to sound less nervous than he felt as he said ‘Now leave. Please.’

‘Of course.’ Douglas seemed to pull himself together. ‘Look, I’m just along the corridor, I’ll come back to check on you later–’

‘No,’ Martin interrupted, now well and truly alarmed. ‘No, don’t come near me. Just go.’

God, this had to be some sort of karmic punishment for all the times he’d covertly watched Douglas’ large hands sure and steady on the yoke; he’d always wanted Douglas to look at him like that but not just because of some stupid trick of biology that he had no control over.

He’d heard stories about alphas, about how they would break down doors to get to a fertile omega and mate with them whether the omega wanted it or not. He was suddenly aware of how very much larger and stronger than him Douglas was and backed up a couple more steps, his heart pounding hard as he repeated ‘Please just go.’

Without another word, Douglas turned on his heel and left, and Martin raced across the room to lock the door. He heaved a shaky sigh of relief when the lock clicked shut, and turned to lean back against the door. Slowly, he slid down it to sit on the floor.

‘Right,’ he said aloud to the empty room. ‘Here we go, then.’

For a couple of hours he couldn’t settle. It was almost as bad as a trip to the dentist, the sense of anticipation, and Martin wished futilely that it would just _start_ already so he could get it over with. The heaviness in his gut grew more intense, starting to feel almost like pressure, and he found himself pacing the room restlessly, unable to find a comfortable location within the cramped confines of the four walls.

Douglas returned at some point, to linger outside his door and enquire if Martin was alright, trying the handle casually as he spoke.

‘I’m fine,’ Martin said loudly, watching the turning doorknob and staying firmly on the other side of the room while his stomach clenched sharply with the first hint of fear. Why, oh _why_ did his body have to do this here and now, of all times? ‘Go away.’

‘If you’re sure.’

‘I’m sure!’ Martin snapped, fear making him sharp. ‘Now go away!’

He heard the tread of Douglas’ footsteps retreating, and resumed his pacing.

An hour later there was still no change, and Martin was worn out with turning around and around in the small room. He sank down to sit with his back to the door again; the footsteps in the corridor barely registered on his awareness and he startled when Douglas spoke.

‘How are you?’

‘Fine,’ Martin said. He felt like a rabbit in the gaze of a predator; this was a bad place to sit but moving would only alert Douglas to how close he was. Better to sit still and try to turn him away with words.

‘You don’t sound fine,’ Douglas said. ‘You sound tired.’

‘I’m okay,’ Martin said. ‘Really. Fine.’

He tried to put command into his tone, hoping that Douglas would leave, but Douglas only hummed thoughtfully.

‘I’d feel better if you let me in so I could see that you’re okay,’ he said, and Martin shut his eyes as his stomach turned over at how coaxing and utterly _reasonable_ Douglas sounded.

‘No.’

‘Just to make sure you’re aright.’

‘ _No_.’

‘I can smell you through the door,’ Douglas said, his voice low and confiding. ‘You smell odd. Do you have someone in there with you?’

‘Of course I don’t,’ said Martin, terse. ‘I just told you that I never… Just go away. Please, Douglas.’

For a long moment there was silence outside but just as Martin dared to relax, awaiting the sound of retreating footsteps, the door handle turned stealthily.

Fear raced cold down Martin’s spine and he blurted ‘Stop it!’

‘Are you in trouble?’ Douglas asked instantly. ‘Let me in.’

‘I’m fine,’ Martin said, his voice shaking and giving the lie to his words.

‘I don’t believe you.’ The handle rattled, and Martin chewed frantically at his lip as Douglas repeated ‘Let me see you.’

‘No.’ Martin’s stomach heaved, terror and nausea rising in his throat, and Douglas said firmly ‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist.’

The door creaked, as though Douglas was testing its strength, and Martin scrambled to his feet and backed away, hiccupping for breath. His chest felt tight, as though someone had put a steel band around his ribcage, and he gulped futilely for a full breath as his eyes started to prickle warningly. Fucking, _fucking_ omega hormones; he’d never had more need of a clear and rational head, but all he could do was quiver on the opposite side of the room and try desperately not to vomit onto the cheap hotel carpet.

‘Martin,’ Douglas said sharply, and the door creaked again. Martin bit down on the side of his hand, willing himself not to make any noise as his panting turned to half-sobs. Why did Carolyn always have to put them in such cheap and horrible accommodation – surely in any other hotel someone would have come to see what all the fuss was about and would have stopped Douglas. Even the sixth floor – that had felt so safe when he first got here – was now a trap, since the only way out of the room was through the door and past Douglas. Martin had no illusions about who would win that struggle.

‘Fuck,’ Douglas swore to himself, and the next instant there was the sliding, scrabbling noise of him trying to slip the lock with one of his credit cards.

‘Go away!’ Martin shouted, hating the way his voice cracked breathlessly in the middle. ‘Leave me alone, Douglas, just–’

He broke off into a terrified noise as the lock clicked and the door swung open.

‘Don’t do this,’ he begged, ‘Douglas, please, you’ll hate yourself for it, don’t.’

Douglas took no notice, entering and re-locking the door behind him, and Martin darted to the bedside table, caught up a lamp and threw it at him. But he’d telegraphed his movements too clearly – Douglas caught it easily and set it down on the floor.

The low, heavy feeling in Martin’s guts had started to turn back into cramps, and he groaned as a particularly harsh one doubled him over. Douglas only glanced at him as he went to check the en suite bathroom and Martin closed his eyes, scrubbing at his wet face. He couldn’t believe that this was about to happen to him, that all his frenetic precautions had been for nothing; the thought of what Douglas was about to do made his legs go rubbery and he collapsed onto his knees, hunched protectively in on himself. At least he could meet his fate like a man, though, instead of a useless whimpering thing, and he gritted his teeth and swallowed back the hitching sobs welling out of him.

Douglas’ feet appeared in front of him.

‘You’re really alone,’ he said, his voice unreadable.

Martin nodded, not trusting his control over his voice, and stayed on his knees. For a moment he had the wild idea that he could just stay down here, refuse to get up, and Douglas would abandon the attempt and go away.

But when Douglas reached down to grip his upper arms and pull, Martin’s resolve broke.

‘No, no, no,’ he sobbed, pushing blindly at Douglas’ hands, his arms. But Douglas paid no attention to him, lifting him onto his feet with almost no effort, and Martin at first sobbed and struggled and then groaned in pain, leaning forward as another cramp hit him.

‘Martin, you foolish boy.’ Now Douglas’ voice was gentle and no, that was just wrong, because Douglas was often short with him but he’d never shown himself to be the sort of sadistic person who liked to play with his prey before he took it. ‘Martin, listen to me. You have to calm down, you’re going to make yourself sick if you carry on like this.’

And then Douglas’ hands were tightening and pulling him close and Martin cried out in fear, but the next instant his face was against the broad curve of Douglas’ shoulder and Douglas’ arms were around him, big hands rubbing firmly up and down his spine.

‘Shush now, calm yourself, you’re alright,’ Douglas was saying into his hair.

‘You… you’re…’ Martin stuttered, unsure whether to melt into the embrace or try to fight free of it.

‘I’m not going to hurt you.’ Douglas’ arms tightened, and he growled, ‘No-one is _ever_ going to hurt you, not ever again, or they’ll have me to answer to.’

‘But I’m… and you…’

‘Take a deep breath.’ Douglas gripped his shoulders and held him at arm's length. ‘Calm. Like this.’

He inhaled and exhaled through his nose, slow and deliberate, and when Martin failed to imitate him he squeezed briefly. ‘ _Martin_. Come on now, you need to calm down or you’re going to hyperventilate. Now take a breath.’

After a couple of attempts Martin succeeded in taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, and Douglas rubbed his shoulders encouragingly.

‘There, that’s it. Calm, now, calm yourself. Look at you, getting yourself all worked up over nothing. Honestly, it’s fine, heat happens every day to thousands of omegas all over the world; you really can’t get yourself into such a state–’

‘It’s not nothing!’ Martin said, unable to let this pass. ‘You’re going to… I can’t make you leave, and you’ve broken in, and now you’re going to… to…’

‘To what?’ Douglas’ hands had slid down and around to his shoulder blades and now they were pulling, trying to draw him closer. ‘My God, your muscles are all knotted up, how are you not sore–’

‘You’re going to fuck me,’ Martin said desperately, and Douglas stilled. ‘Whether I want it or not. It’s what you want, it’s what all alphas want they when they find an omega in heat, and it’s why you forced your way in here.’

Douglas didn’t respond, and Martin looked up at him.

‘Isn’t it?’

‘Martin…’ Douglas’ face did something complicated and he pulled Martin in close, rubbing at his back again, and Martin let himself be drawn in, let Douglas tuck Martin’s head into the curve of Douglas’ neck. ‘You don’t have any idea what you smell like to me, do you?’

Martin’s face heated. He knew the sort of language alphas used among themselves when they thought no omegas were around: ‘desperate’, ‘needy’, ‘gagging for it’. But before he could speak, Douglas continued: ‘Frightened. Scared almost out of your mind. I was convinced that someone had forced their way in here already to take advantage of you; the distress is pouring off you in waves.’

‘Oh,’ Martin murmured. Douglas’ hands were heavy and strong on his back, and he could feel his muscles beginning to unwind a little. He sagged against Douglas a little more and Douglas petted his hair and wrapped an arm around his waist and muttered soothing nonsense in his ear: ‘You’re alright, now, I’ve got you,’ and ‘You’re safe, I promise you, no-one’s going to hurt you.’

Martin closed his eyes briefly. He was so used to taking care of himself and being competent and efficient that it was wonderful to feel safe and protected, however fleeting and uncertain the moment might be. But another spasm of pain gripped him and he grunted softly, tensing until it passed, and Douglas pulled back far enough to look down into his face.

‘What is it?’

‘Hurts,’ Martin groaned. He pressed his hand flat against his lower belly, where his internal organs felt as though they were being tied in knots.

‘Come here then.’ Releasing him, Douglas kept a steadying hand on his back as he walked Martin over to the bed. ‘Lie down, and I’ll get you something.’

Martin collapsed gratefully onto the comfortable mattress, and Douglas returned a moment later with some pills.

‘Take these,’ he said, holding them out. ‘Painkillers.’

He handed Martin a glass of water, and Martin gulped it down as Douglas went to double-check the door lock before returning to the bed and stretching out next to Martin.

‘Here.’ He took Martin’s empty glass before Martin had worked out where to put it, and placed it on the bedside table before curling himself possessively around Martin. ‘Now come here. You can kick me out if you’re really going insist about it but I won’t get a wink of sleep in that room, what with Arthur’s snoring, and it would make me feel an awful lot better if you’d let me stay here rather than lying awake worrying about you along the corridor.’

‘I’m fine,’ Martin said. Whether it was the painkillers taking effect already or just the fact of feeling safe, but exhaustion was stealing up on him.

‘Mmmm.’ Douglas rubbed his nose into the hair at the crown of Martin’s head and an arm stole around his waist, holding him gently but firmly in place. He dipped his face to the hollow behind Martin’s ear and inhaled deeply and Martin tensed slightly. Surely Douglas wasn’t, he didn’t…

‘ _Martin_ ,’ Douglas said, clearly reading the tension in him, ‘calm down.’ He reached for Martin’s hand, pressing his fingertips into the grooves between his knuckles and toying with his fingers. ‘I don’t know what you’ve heard about alphas but believe me, the overwhelming majority of us aren’t mindless brutes and haven’t the slightest desire to shag someone who looks and smells half-sick with dread at the thought of it.’

‘Okay,’ Martin said quietly.

‘Now sleep,’ Douglas said, speaking the words into Martin’s hair. ‘I’m here, and nothing’s going to happen to you.’

Martin’s last memory was the weight of Douglas’ arm across his waist, and the comforting solidity of his chest at Martin’s back.

***

Warmth. The first thing Martin registered the next morning was warmth; he felt utterly drenched in it, seeping all the way through to his bones as though he’d never be cold again in his life. He lay there basking muzzily in it, until Douglas stirred against him and Martin startled awake more fully, remembering the previous evening. He blinked his eyes open to see Douglas, head and shoulders propped up against the headboard with one arm curved around Martin while the other hand dug into a bag of dried apple slices balanced on his stomach.

‘There you are,’ Douglas said softly, his fingers sliding through Martin’s hair. ‘Morning.’

Martin mumbled something incoherent and rubbed at his face.

‘I’d ask if you slept well,’ Douglas said, setting the apple slices to one side and turning onto his side so he could look at Martin more fully, ‘but you’ve barely moved all night so I think that counts as a yes.’

He brushed Martin’s hair out of his face and looked down at him curiously. ‘How do you feel?’

Martin took a moment to consider it but was surprised to find that, actually…

‘I feel fine,’ he said, blinking. ‘Normal. Ready to fly.’

‘Good.’ Douglas smiled, but his hand cradled the back of Martin’s skull protectively.

‘But I don’t… I was going into heat, I could feel it, and now I’m…’ Martin rubbed at his face, trying to force himself to wake up enough to make sense of it all.

‘There’s a self-defence mechanism in omegas,’ Douglas said, idly playing with Martin’s hair. ‘It’s an old evolutionary thing: if you’re in a place or situation where it would endanger your life to be incapacitated for a few days then your body aborts it, even at the last minute. It’s incredibly rare; I learnt about it in the first year of my medical degree but I’d never seen or heard of it actually happening before last night, because your body needs to produce really unbelievable amounts of cortisol to trigger the process.’

Martin didn’t know what to say, and settled for ‘Oh.’

‘You must have been utterly terrified,’ Douglas said gently, one hand settling over Martin’s nape.

‘I was,’ Martin said softly. ‘I really thought you were going to…’

‘Mmmm.’ Douglas was silent for a long moment. ‘You don’t have a very high opinion of alphas in general, do you?’

Martin just couldn’t let this pass, and he raised himself up on one elbow to stare at Douglas in disbelief.

‘Are you going to tell me that you’re all tragically misunderstood?’

‘Well, no,’ Douglas admitted. ‘There are an awful lot of young idiots out there. But some of us aren’t such a bad lot.’

Martin made a doubtful noise and Douglas resumed sliding his fingers through his hair.

‘Martin,’ Douglas began, sounding uncharacteristically hesitant, ‘would you… and obviously you don’t have to say yes just because circumstances and timing have thrown us together at this particular juncture… but at some point, would you let me take you out for dinner?’

‘Yes,’ Martin said instantly, grinning like a fool. ‘Yes. That would be great.’

‘Good,’ said Douglas, looking pleased.

‘I’ve liked you for ages,’ Martin confessed, in a rush. ‘I just never said anything, because I didn’t think you liked other alphas.’

Same-gender partnerships were legal but still comparatively rare, and Douglas said ‘I don’t. Which is why for the past several months I’ve been having something of a minor sexual identity crisis, wondering why I found you so irresistible.’

Martin closed his eyes. ‘Oh.’ His heart felt as though it were swelling and expanding inside his ribcage, and Douglas’ thumb traced the smile line at the corner of his mouth.

‘Yes, “oh”. I think you underestimate your own appeal.’

Martin burrowed further against Douglas’ chest and Douglas’ arm came around him, hugging him close.

‘We should get up, and get some breakfast,’ Douglas said, making no move. ‘You must be starving.’

‘Five more minutes,’ Martin said. He glanced up, plucked up his courage, and leaned up to give Douglas a quick kiss.

‘Mmm,’ Douglas said agreeably, tightening his arms. ‘Five more minutes, then.’

In reality it was closer to half an hour before they made a move, Douglas nudging Martin towards the shower and saying he had to go back to his own room to get washed and dressed. When Martin came out of the bathroom he found his clothes for the day neatly laid out on the bed and later, over breakfast, Arthur asked Douglas where he’d been last night as he hadn’t made it back to their room.

‘I spent the night,’ Douglas said, calmly buttering a piece of toast, ‘in the room of one of the most gorgeous creatures I’ve ever seen.’

And although Douglas didn’t betray so much as a flicker of a glance in his direction, Martin’s face burned and he was grateful that Arthur was too busy looking at Douglas to spare him any attention.

***

Over the following weeks Douglas took Martin out for dinner several times, and to an exhibition (that was better than Martin had anticipated) and was generally so courteous and chivalrous that Martin finally snapped ‘I’m not bloody _helpless_ , you know. Just because you know I’m an omega it doesn’t make me any less capable or competent than I was last month when you still thought I was an alpha.’

Douglas had the good grace to look guilty.

‘I know,’ he said. ‘I just thought that, now that I _do_ know, I ought to do better by you.’

‘You don’t have to do better by me,’ Martin said. ‘I liked the old Douglas just fine.’

Douglas relaxed a little after that, although he didn’t act entirely as he had before and, if pressed, would only huff and fling his hands up and say that he was old-fashioned that way, and had been brought up with the very firm ideas that omegas were due a certain amount of deference and care. And although Martin might protest, the attention was wonderful, if a little strange.

Martin stopped using his alpha-scented cologne and shower gel. He was in the supermarket doing his weekly shop and his hand hovered over the bottle for a long moment before he thought _Fuck it_ , and picked up a bottle of the normal, cheaper stuff. Maybe it was time to stop hiding what he was, and show everyone that omegas could be pilots too. God knew he’d never had a role model to look up to when he was younger, and he couldn’t help but wonder how different his life might have been if he had. His clients for moving jobs looked at him a little oddly, doubtless wondering why he was out working instead of at home, but on the next trip he walked into the office and Douglas’ nostrils flared appreciatively.

‘Nice,’ was all he said, and Martin didn’t have a chance to even begin to think how to respond before Arthur started with a barrage of ‘Skip! That’s brilliant! How long have you been an omega?’ and Martin had to roll his eyes and point out to Arthur that gender wasn’t something one could switch when one grew tired of it, hence it was since birth.

Carolyn didn’t say anything but Martin could have sworn he saw an approving gleam in her eyes, and the next week she casually let slip that Arthur was her birth son. Martin had always assumed that she and Gordon had both been alphas and that they’d used a surrogate, but apparently not, and he looked at her with a renewed respect.

Martin never stayed over at Douglas’ flat. He’d barely even been in his bedroom – on their first date Martin had clumsily blurted out that he wanted to take things slowly and Douglas had agreed easily. They’d indulged in several sessions of slow, lazy snogging on the couch that had left Martin hard and gasping but he always pulled away and calmed himself before things could go any further. Waiting until an omega’s heat to consummate a relationship was slightly old-fashioned by modern standards, but theirs was something of a proper old-fashioned courtship and Martin was relieved by the readiness with which Douglas acquiesced.

Shortly after they had returned from the trip Martin had made sure to go to the doctor to get a repeat prescription of his old pills, and now the packet sat in his sock drawer untouched as he carried on with the new ones. It was comforting to know that he had the option, even though he didn’t _want_ to return to the old pills; it had been such a relief when the side-effects disappeared. And often, when he was lying in bed touching himself and fantasising about Douglas’ hands, and his mouth, he thought that it might not be so bad to spend his heat with Douglas. Remembering the way that Douglas’ kisses made him feel as though his bones were melting, and the warm weight of Douglas’ hands on his skin, Martin shivered. No, it might not be a bad thing at all to spend it with Douglas.

One evening, a fortnight before the date on which Martin had calculated his next heat was due, they were both sitting on the sofa watching television when Martin broached the subject during an advert break.

‘I thought I might spend a couple of days here,’ he said, trying and failing to sound casual. ‘In about a fortnight’s time. Would that be okay?’

For a moment Douglas looked puzzled. ‘Of course that’s okay. Why would you – oh.’ Understanding dawned, and something gleamed predatorily in the depths of his eyes. ‘You’ve decided to give it a try, have you?’

‘Yes.’ Martin looked down, picked at a piece of loose skin by his thumbnail. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Douglas – what if this was a mistake? What if–

‘Stop.’ Douglas’ hand covered both of his, stilling them. ‘Martin, you’re allowed to change your mind about this. But if you’re sure then there are a few things about alphas that I think you still don’t understand.’

‘What’s that?’

Martin looked up at Douglas, who laced their fingers together as he spoke.

‘Evolution has ensured that we’re highly attuned to the needs and desires of our omegas, and to want to provide for them. So if you look exhausted then I’m going to want to make you lie down and sleep. If you say you’re hungry then I’m going to want to find something for you to eat – for God’s sake, why do you think I keep inviting you round for dinner so much? So I wouldn’t worry about the possibility of my pushing you into something you don’t want to do; strictly speaking that’s not really how we’re wired.’

‘But you argue with Carolyn all the time,’ Martin said, even as he pressed closer to Douglas.

‘Well…’ Douglas seemed to consider for a long moment. ‘That’s true. But I did say that alphas are attuned to _their_ omegas and, while Carolyn most certainly isn’t my omega, I was rather hoping that I could call you mine.’

‘You can,’ Martin said, tipping his face up for a kiss and smiling widely. ‘You absolutely can.’

‘Good,’ Douglas said, dipping his head and kissing Martin until they were both dizzy and breathless.

The next time he was in work Martin took a pen and self-consciously blocked out three days in the wall chart. He debated what to write for a long time but eventually just left it at _Martin unavailable_. No sense in broadcasting it if he didn’t have to.

‘Damn right you’ll be unavailable,’ Douglas muttered into his ear as he came up behind him, taking the pen off him and blocking out a fourth day, and Martin shivered a little.

***

Douglas had been increasingly tactile as the date grew nearer; Martin had asked him if his scent had changed and Douglas had buried his face in Martin’s neck to inhale before saying ‘Not that I can tell, no. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were subtle changes, but to me you smell just as good as you always do.’

Now that he knew what was coming, Martin noticed that he felt a bit all over the place in the run-up to it. One minute he’d want nothing more than to be tucked against Douglas’ side on the sofa, wanting it so much he almost _ached_ for it, and then as soon as he was there he’d be overcome with a feeling of claustrophobia and have to get up under the pretence of making tea.

‘It’s normal,’ Douglas told him as Martin clattered about with tea things in the kitchen, watching him with eyes that didn’t miss a trick. ‘Just do whatever feels right and stop fretting about it, it’s all perfectly normal.’

Finally Martin decided that the solution was to keep himself busy in the run-up to it and scheduled enough extra jobs, trying to make up for the four days of enforced break, that he didn’t have any time free to dwell on things. Douglas grumbled at him that it was a bad idea, and that he ought to be relaxing and taking things easy in the days beforehand, but the idea of sitting around anticipating it without any distractions was more than Martin could bear.

The morning of the first day he had an upset stomach, although now he knew what it was he had a better idea of what to blame rather than the over-cooked pasta he’d had no appetite for the previous night. As soon as it passed and he felt better, he grabbed his bag (that had been sitting already packed under his bed for days now) and drove straight to Douglas’ flat, so worried that the next stage would start immediately that he didn’t even take ten minutes for a much longed-for shower.

Douglas frowned a little when he answered the door to Martin’s knocking, taking in Martin’s pale and slightly sweaty face, but as soon as Martin stepped in close to him his nostrils flared and comprehension dawned.

‘Alright?’ he asked, shutting the door behind him and turning the lock automatically in a casual display of protective instinct that made Martin shiver. ‘You look a bit rumpled.’

‘Fine,’ he said. ‘I’ve just been feeling a bit off-colour all morning.’

‘Ah yes.’ Douglas grimaced sympathetically, doubtless remembering the early stages of heat from some of his old partners. ‘Do you want a cup of tea? To settle your stomach?’

‘Yes please,’ Martin said gratefully. ‘But can I shower first? I didn’t have time this morning, I just wanted to get here before… you know.’

‘Of course.’ Douglas gestured to the bathroom. ‘Make yourself at home, you know where everything is.’

Martin took his time in the shower, scrubbing himself thoroughly and then standing under the hot water and letting it loosen the muscle aches from the last few days. This was _Douglas_ , he told himself firmly. There was no earthly reason to be nervous, it was Douglas – who’d already demonstrated that he paid more attention to Martin than he ever imagined anyone would – and everything was going to be okay.

He dried himself off, put on his softest, most favourite pair of pyjama bottoms and a clean T-shirt, and wandered out to the kitchen to find that Douglas, with unerring timing, was just setting a cup of tea on the table for him.

After tea they decamped to the living room and the sofa. Martin had asked if they weren’t going to go straight to the bedroom and Douglas had looked at him, surprised.

‘We can if you want to,’ he said. ‘But I didn’t think you were quite at that stage yet.’

‘No,’ Martin admitted.

‘Well then.’ Douglas waved him towards the sofa. ‘All in good time. No sense in hurrying things.’

Martin picked up the book he kept at Douglas’ flat and tried to read, but he couldn’t settle. He was up every couple of minutes, checking that the doors and windows were locked, that Douglas had remembered to get enough food to last them a few days, that Douglas hadn’t turned the oven on and then walked off and forgotten about it (even though there was no earthly reason why he should have done so).

On his fifth circuit of the flat Douglas said ‘Martin,’ and held out a hand from where he was sitting on the sofa.

‘Oh God, I’m sorry,’ Martin said, going to him and letting Douglas pull him down into his lap. ‘I must be driving you mad. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I–’

‘It’s normal,’ Douglas said, running his hands down Martin’s back to hold his hips. ‘Your body wants to be sure you’re going to be in a safe environment for the next few days, with no immediate threats. But it’s fine, I promise you. I’ve thought of everything.’

Martin tucked his face against Douglas’ neck and sighed, taking in the scent that said warmth and safety.

‘It’s okay,’ Douglas said. ‘How old were you the last time you had a heat, anyway? When did you have your first one?’

‘I was nineteen,’ Martin said and, at Douglas’ noise of surprise, continued defensively, ‘I started late, alright? And then the first form of suppressants were released a year later and I went on them as soon as I could. I’ve not been off them since.’

‘Over ten years is an awfully long time to be taking suppressants,’ Douglas said quietly.

Martin lifted his head and stared at him as though he were mad. ‘It would have stopped me flying – no-one’s going to hire an omega for a pilot. Not taking them was never really an option.’

‘I see,’ Douglas said. He splayed one hand across the small of Martin’s back, rubbing absently, and Martin closed his eyes. The same feeling was starting to gather low in his hips, that heavy, almost molten feeling that he’d had before, save that this time it was tinged not with dread and panic but a half-nervous, half-excited anticipation.

‘I think we need a distraction,’ Douglas said, kissing Martin’s hairline. ‘What about a DVD?’

Martin nodded, his eyes still closed.

‘Let me up, then,’ Douglas said. ‘There’s a series of Poirot that I bought the other week.’

Agatha Christie had caused a media sensation in the early seventies when she stated in an interview that she had always though of the character as an omega, rather than the beta or low-level alpha he was generally assumed to be. Omega rights groups had saluted her progressive views, and the character was often held up as an example of what omegas could achieve.

Douglas started the episode and came back to the sofa, stretching out on it and pulling Martin so that he was lying on top of him, tangled together with Martin’s head pillowed on Douglas’ chest. Despite himself, Martin soon grew absorbed in the plot and didn’t stir for the whole hour it was on, and when the credits rolled he looked up to see Douglas grinning at him.

‘Successful distraction, then,’ he said, and Martin laughed a little and swatted his arm.

‘Yes, alright, point taken.’

‘How about another episode?’ Douglas suggested.

‘Alright. Here, let me change the disc, there’s one a bit further on in the series that I’ve been dying to see.’

So saying, he untangled himself from Douglas and stood up, and then froze. There was an odd sort of _surge_ inside him, like something giving way, and then a rush of desire raced up his spine.

‘Oh God,’ he breathed, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. He took a faltering step and became aware that the crack of his arse was slick and wet, and as he moved more leaked out of him, soaking the cotton of his boxers. The soft material of his T-shirt was suddenly a rough, scratchy tease against his nipples; his knees turned to water and he took a deep breath, willing himself to stay upright while he told Douglas–

‘That’s it, isn’t it?’ Douglas was at his side, one hand on his arm to steady him. Martin hadn’t even heard him move. ‘I think that it’s time.’

‘Yes,’ Martin gasped, and turned blindly when Douglas’ arms came around him, winding his fingers in Douglas’ shirtfront and clinging to him. ‘Yes, it’s now, oh God, kiss me.’

He turned his face up, nuzzling at Douglas’ jaw clumsily, and Douglas kissed him hard, nipping at his mouth until Martin moaned loudly and leaned into him, rubbing his face feverishly against Douglas’ shoulder.

‘I think we should get you into the bedroom,’ Douglas growled in his ear, sliding his hands down to Martin’s arse and squeezing it lightly. ‘God, you smell _delicious_ right now, you know.’

Martin only groaned in response, arching his back and feeling himself ache with arousal, for the need to have Douglas’ hands on his bare skin.

Douglas gripped his hips and walked him steadily backwards towards the bedroom, tightening his grip when Martin stumbled, until they were standing by the bed and Douglas was pushing his hands up under Martin’s T-shirt to strip it off him.

‘ _God_ , look at you,’ Douglas breathed against Martin’s mouth. He slid his hands under Martin’s pyjama bottoms to cup his arse through his boxers, kneading gently, and Martin squeezed his eyes shut and sobbed a little as he felt himself get wetter and slicker.

‘Come here.’ Douglas hooked his thumbs into the waistband of Martin’s pyjamas and underwear and pulled them down, kneeling at Martin’s feet so that Martin could brace himself on Douglas’ shoulders as he stepped out of first one side and then the other. When he was free Douglas tossed them carelessly to one side, hands already reaching to cup the backs of Martin’s thighs and draw him closer.

He nuzzled the join of thigh and hip, inhaling deeply, while his hands slid upwards and Martin chewed frantically on his lip, widening his stance a little in silent request.

‘You’re wet right down to your thighs,’ Douglas said, sliding his fingertips ticklishly through the smears of fluid on the soft skin of Martin’s inner thighs. ‘God, that’s lovely.’

‘Please,’ Martin blurted. He reached back and down, gripping Douglas’ wrist and trying to urge his hand higher. ‘Put… _oh_ … put them in me.’

‘All in good time,’ Douglas said, and Martin’s patience dissolved.

‘ _Now_ ,’ he said. He let go of Douglas’ hand to reach up, pushing his own fingers into himself and gasping in relief. But they weren’t what he wanted, they were only just enough to tease, and Douglas exhaled forcefully and finally, _finally_ , brought his hand up, pushing two thick fingers into Martin while Martin pulled his own hand away to grab hold of Douglas’ shoulders.

‘Yes,’ he panted, his legs trembling under him with each twist and slide of Douglas’ fingers. ‘Oh yes, that’s it, more…’

‘I might have known you’d be the demanding sort,’ Douglas said, and Martin opened his eyes and looked down to find him smiling. ‘How marvellous.’

He punctuated it with a few heavy thrusts of his fingers that made Martin’s knees almost buckle, before muttering ‘On the bed. On your front.’

He pulled away and Martin groaned at the loss, but stumbled over to the bed in response to a tap on his hip. He lay down on his front, his hands curling and flexing against the sheets, thighs spread in invitation. His stomach was fluttering between arousal and nervousness, but when the mattress creaked and shifted under Douglas’ weight he spread his legs further and arched his spine in invitation. It had been so long, he’d forgotten how intense everything was, and he clutched at the sheets and gasped nonsense as Douglas’ hands gripped his calves and slid upwards, kneading and caressing the long muscles on the backs of his thighs.

One of them left him for a moment before returning, tapping at Martin’s hip.

‘Lift,’ Douglas murmured; Martin obediently canted his hips up so that Douglas could push something soft underneath, and he looked down to see a towel bunched beneath him.

‘What…’ He reached down to touch it and then gasped when Douglas stretched out on top of him.

‘If I do this right,’ Douglas said, nuzzling the hair behind Martin’s ear while Martin’s brain caught on the fact that he could feel Douglas’ erection pressed against his arse, hot and hard and right there. Martin squirmed a little, instinctively, and then both caught their breath as Douglas’ cock slid along the crease of Martin’s arse.

‘If I do this right,’ Douglas repeated, heavily, ‘then you’re going to come _everywhere_. And neither of us will want to stop to change the sheets.’

‘Yes,’ Martin panted, arching his back, half-out of his mind with that tantalising pressure that was so close to being what he needed. ‘Yes, alright, come _on_.’

The next moment he almost sobbed with frustration, because instead of pushing into him Douglas was drawing back, pressing soft, melting kisses along his spine while his hands gripped Martin’s buttocks, spreading him open. At the first touch of Douglas’ mouth to his hole, Martin jumped and quickly seized Douglas’ wrist.

‘What,’ he gasped, ‘what are you–’

‘Easy,’ Douglas said, one thumb rubbing caressing circles against Martin’s skin. ‘You’re alright.’

‘But you… I’m…’

‘You’re _fine_.’ Douglas stretched, managing to press his thumb to Martin’s hole, and Martin moaned a little. ‘You’re just out of a shower that was quite ridiculously thorough, if I know you at all, and you taste divine. I’ll stop if you’re not enjoying it but otherwise,’ Douglas’ voice had sunk to a purr, and Martin shut his eyes as Douglas bit gently at his skin, ‘otherwise just let me do this.’

Slowly, Martin let go of his death grip on Douglas’ wrist and Douglas said ‘Good, that’s it,’ approval plain in his voice as he bent his head again.

Martin’s face burned as Douglas licked at him. He lapped broad strokes over his hole, and pushed his tongue inside, and drew back to lick down to his perineum, teasing until Martin spread his legs and pushed back against Douglas’ face in mute plea, and all the while Martin buried his face in the pillows and grabbed sweaty fistfuls of the sheets and sobbed mindlessly with pleasure. The towel bunched under his cock grew wet with pre-come, and he found himself pushing against it, body spiralling tighter and tighter between the pleasure of the friction on his cock and Douglas’ tongue in his arse.

‘Oh God, do something,’ he panted. ‘Just… just… oh, please, just something… anything…’

In response Douglas set up a rhythm, not too fast but steady and firm, his hands tightening on Martin’s buttocks when he tried to writhe, and Martin buried his mouth in the pillow and wailed a little as he felt the diffuse, pleasurable ache in his hips start to shiver into focus.

‘Oh, I’m coming,’ he groaned, when each squirm of Douglas’ tongue in him felt like it would be the one that put him over, and the familiar tension was gathering in the small of his back and his inner thighs. ‘Oh God, yes, that’s it, I’m _coming_.’

And just like that he was shaking and pulsing into the towel rucked up between his legs, feeling himself fluttering around Douglas’ tongue while Douglas’ hands gripped him hard, holding him in place as he fell apart.

Eventually, as he stopped shuddering and moaning helplessly, Douglas’ hands relaxed until he was stroking Martin’s arse and thighs in long, firm caresses that made Martin simultaneously want to arch up into them and sink into the mattress.

‘There,’ Douglas murmured, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the curve of Martin’s arse. ‘How was that?’

‘I… I…’ Martin gulped for breath. When he’d cautiously imagined being with Douglas during his heat he’d imagined Douglas fucking him, maybe stroking him off. He’d never even _dreamed_ that someone might want to put their mouth there, much less that it would feel so excruciatingly good.

‘Come on, now.’ Douglas’ hands were firm on his hips, coaxing him to turn over onto his back and pushing the towel under him when he complied. ‘Did you enjoy that?’

Douglas wrapped an arm around one of Martin’s shaky thighs and pressed a lazy kiss to the inside of it.

‘Yes,’ Martin sighed, squirming ticklishly as Douglas’ fingers traced a hipbone. ‘Oh yes, that was so good. But what about you?’

Douglas only grinned wolfishly. ‘Don’t you worry about me. I thought I might fuck you, when you’re ready to go again.’

‘Are you happy to wait that long?’ Martin fretted. ‘You don’t want my hand, or my mouth, or… what?’

For Douglas’ grin had grown, if possible, wider, and now he looked amused by something.

‘Oh darling,’ he murmured, changing sides to lavish attention on Martin’s other thigh. ‘You really haven’t had a heat for a long time, have you?’

Martin shifted, uncomfortable. ‘You know I haven’t. Honestly, it’s not fair to take the piss just because I’ve–’

‘Shush, no, hush now.’ Douglas slid up his body and kissed his cheek penitently. ‘No, don’t look like that, I didn’t mean to make you feel awkward. Just… well, you’ll see. Now let me get up and brush my teeth, and I’ll– oh.’

Martin’s legs had come around Douglas automatically, and at this they tightened.

‘Just kiss me,’ Martin said, feeling daring and illicit. ‘I don’t care, just kiss me.’

Douglas obeyed, gently at first and then harder when Martin opened his mouth.

‘Do you like that?’ Douglas said, and Martin nodded breathlessly.

‘I’m glad.’ Douglas dipped his head to nuzzle at Martin’s neck, and muttered ‘You taste almost as good as you smell, you know. I think I could spend your entire heat just lying between your thighs, eating you out.’

Martin moaned at this, his knees squeezing Douglas’ waist reflexively as desire bloomed hot in his lower belly.

‘But then I wouldn’t get to fuck you,’ Douglas continued, kissing slowly – almost meditatively – at Martin’s throat. ‘And I bet you’re gorgeous when you’re getting fucked.’

Martin exhaled sharply through his nose. He could feel the definite beginnings of renewed interest in his groin, his cock firming under the weight of Douglas’ hips, and when Douglas skimmed a hand over his chest he arched into it.

‘How’re you getting on?’ Douglas said, and reached down to cup his hand over Martin’s cock. Martin whimpered, his legs falling open on pure instinct as his cock lifted and firmed.

‘Yes, that’s it,’ Douglas praised him. ‘Oh God, yes, look at you. Are you almost there yet?’

‘I’m ready,’ Martin said. His blood felt as though it was on a slow burn, the pressure of Douglas’ hips between his thighs was at once the most achingly perfect thing he’d ever felt, and tantalising in its inadequacy.

He closed his eyes and murmured ‘Put it in me.’

Douglas’ breath caught, and Martin thrilled with the evidence that he wasn’t quite so composed as he was pretending.

‘Come on,’ he said, feeling bold. ‘I want you. God, I really, _really_ –’ he arched his back and pushed up, biting his lip at the feeling of Douglas’ cock sliding alongside his own, ‘–want you to.’

‘Alright.’ Douglas reared back, kneeling between Martin’s thighs and pulling Martin’s arse up into his lap. He slid a couple of fingers up into the crack of Martin’s arse, touching Martin’s hole gently and then lingering at Martin’s little noise.

‘Feel how wet you are,’ Douglas said quietly, dipping the tips of two fingers inside. ‘Oh, that’s gorgeous…’

Martin gasped, tilting his hips up and letting his legs fall open further, and Douglas took his hand away to grip his erection. He leaned forward, and Martin moaned as he felt the first brush of Douglas’ cock against his arse. Douglas teased him for a short while, rubbing the head back and forth over his hole, until Martin gave a little cry and dug his heels into the bed.

‘Please.’ He reached for Douglas blindly, wanting him so much he almost _hurt_ with it, and clutched at Douglas’ arms. ‘Come on, don’t make me wait, just–’

‘God, listen to you.’ Douglas rubbed his cock back and forth through the wetness leaking from Martin, and when he pushed the head in Martin cried out. ‘I bet you’re going to be a screamer, aren’t you?’

Martin could only gasp frantically. That first stretch felt so good, so _right_ , he could have sobbed, and he lifted his legs to wrap them around Douglas’ waist and dig his heels into the small of Douglas’ back.

‘Alright then.’

Douglas pushed in a little more and Martin flung his head back and groaned loudly. Douglas’ head was bowed, obviously watching where his cock was sliding slowly into Martin, and Martin pushed his fingers through Douglas’ hair as he moaned his pleasure. Douglas’ cock was thick, and hot, and like nothing he’d ever felt before. Vague, half-forgotten memories of pushing cold pieces of plastic and silicone into himself and gasping aloud into the chilly air of his bedroom paled in the face of the reality of this, of Douglas’ body heavy and solid between his thighs and the thick, blunt pressure inside him, and he opened his eyes and lifted his head, looking down his body to see where the solid shaft of Douglas’ cock was pushing into him.

And then Douglas started to move, and Martin’s head fell back on the pillows again. It was just what he needed, and every thrust and withdrawal made his toes curl and sparks of pleasure skitter up his spine. He cursed, and when Douglas mouthed kisses along his collarbone Martin arched his head back, baring his throat and encouraging Douglas to mark him, claim him.

‘Is this… what you… needed?’ Douglas said, voice shaky and breathless with his thrusts.

‘Yes,’ Martin groaned. ‘Oh God, yes, that’s perfect, just keep doing that.’

He reached down to touch his cock, hard again and lying on his belly, but as soon as he gave himself a couple of tugs pleasure swelled sharply in him and he had to let go, gripping the sheets.

‘Don’t be shy,’ Douglas panted, and reached down to take hold of Martin’s cock. ‘Come on, then.’

‘You sh-shouldn’t,’ Martin stuttered, twisting and arching under Douglas as Douglas’ hand set up a brisk pace on his cock. ‘You’re… oh… you’re going to make me come.’

‘I know,’ Douglas growled, rubbing a slick thumb over the soft, slippery head of Martin’s cock, and Martin actually _mewled_ , kicking his heels against Douglas’ back.

‘Too soon,’ he said despairingly. His balls were drawing up, his body tightening. ‘I’m not going to last, you’re… you’re…’

‘Martin,’ Douglas grunted, re-doubling his efforts and making Martin’s fingers dig hard into the sheets, ‘in your condition I think you should be less worried about stamina and more about your frequency, because – oh yes, _there_ you are, that’s it…’

Martin shuddered violently as he came, his cock producing only a weak spurt but his arse clenching hard around Douglas’ cock and Douglas stroked him through it, until Martin’s fingers loosened their grip on the sheets and came up to pet at Douglas’ hair and shoulders. He made a weak noise and Douglas’ other hand slid under his head, cradling the curve of his skull protectively as he nuzzled the side of Martin’s face and coaxed a last few aftershocks out of him.

‘Your first orgasm with a real alpha inside you, not some toy,’ he growled. He nipped Martin’s earlobe before soothing the tiny hurt with his tongue. ‘How was it?’

Good,’ Martin said. Panted, really; his eyes were still closed, his body still shivery and achingly responsive to every shift of Douglas inside him. ‘Really, really good, I had no idea that… oh, Douglas.’

He wound his arms around Douglas’ neck, kissing him properly, and Douglas hummed in pleasure as he kissed him back before eventually lifting his head, with a last nibble on Martin’s lower lip.

‘Ready for your second?’ he asked, shifting on the bed and pushing in a little, and Martin arched his back.

The vague ache was starting to wrap itself around his hips again, and when Douglas thrust forwards slightly the feeling of relief was matched only by the surge of arousal. Douglas’ hand slid over his erection, wet with fluid and with Martin’s come, and Martin groaned deeply and bit down on his lip uncertainly.

‘I’m not sure I… I’ve never…’

‘I know,’ Douglas murmured, and kissed Martin’s hairline with more tenderness than Martin would have expected from him in that moment. ‘Come on. Just stay with me.’ He started to thrust again, and added ‘Tell me if it gets too much.’

This time everything was more intense, and after a few moments Martin wrapped his arms around Douglas’ back and simply clung to him, hiding his face against Douglas’ shoulder.

‘You alright?’ Douglas murmured against the crown of Martin’s head and Martin nodded wordlessly. His entire skin felt shivery and too-hot, and the steady pulse of Douglas’ cock in his arse and the rasp of his hand on his cock were sending shudders of pleasure through him that were almost as good as an orgasm on their own.

It took longer to come, this time. Martin started sobbing at some point, but Douglas only growled and hitched Martin’s legs higher around his waist and kept on at him, fucking into him steadily until Martin tensed and started to claw mindlessly at Douglas’ back, his nails leaving long scratches.

 _I’m nearly there_ , he wanted to say. All that came out was a garbled whimper but Douglas understood, fucking him almost brutally hard and tugging at his cock until Martin flung his head back and _wailed_ , coming hard around Douglas’ cock. The second time felt like being held underwater to drown, like being torn open and gutted, and Martin clutched at Douglas like a dying man to an anchor as he fell apart. He came back to himself to find Douglas kissing his face and muttering ‘Shush, now, you’re alright. Neighbours are going to think I’m killing you, with noise like that.’

Martin sobbed for breath, pressing his face into Douglas’ shoulder. He was shaking like a leaf but couldn’t seem to stop, and Douglas let go of his cock to rub at his side soothingly.

‘You _are_ a screamer, aren’t you?’ Douglas said, his voice curling raggedly around the words.

‘I didn’t…’ Martin gasped, ‘I didn’t know… oh God… no-one’s ever…’

‘I _know_ ,’ Douglas said, and bit briefly at Martin’s throat. ‘And I can’t tell you how much I like that.’

Martin only moaned in response, his head falling back. It all seemed like too much effort to think right now; far easier to let Douglas take care of everything, and he rubbed at the long muscles of Douglas’ back as Douglas licked up the length of the tendon in his throat.

‘Let me up for a moment,’ Douglas said, gripping one of the thighs clamped around his waist.

Martin loosened his legs obediently and Douglas leaned up, reaching down to hold himself steady as he pulled out of Martin and sat back on his heels.

Martin moved his legs weakly. He felt impossibly wet and open, the rough fabric of the towel soaked underneath him; everything was so warm and slick that he was sure Douglas must have come but didn’t understand why he hadn’t felt his knot, and why Douglas was pulling away so soon. When he lifted his head, he had his answer: Douglas was still hard, his cock still thick and heavy with blood, and Martin half-sat up, bracing an elbow beneath himself and reaching for Douglas fretfully as Douglas moved away.

‘Where are you going?’ he asked. ‘I’m… don’t you want to–’

‘Damn right I do,’ Douglas said, moving up the bed and lying on his side to curl himself around Martin. ‘But if I knot you in that position then after about five minutes you’ll realise that I’m heavy and you’re uncomfortable.’

He nudged Martin gently onto his side and tucked his chest against Martin’s back, pushing and tugging at the towel to keep it under them.

‘Now then.’ Douglas kissed Martin’s hair. ‘Lift your leg and put it over mine.’

Martin squirmed backwards obediently, until he felt Douglas’ cock pushing hard and wet at his arse. He lifted his topmost leg and draped it back over Douglas’, and at the spreading apart of his buttocks he gasped as his nipples tightened, arousal starting to pool in his belly again.

‘That’s it, good,’ Douglas praised him. He nuzzled the hair at the nape of Martin’s neck. ‘God, you smell good right now.’

He reached down to take himself in hand and started to push in, and Martin moaned shakily.

‘Alright?’ Douglas paused, working an arm under Martin’s chest so he could hug him close, and continued when Martin nodded. He continued until he was fully seated, and Martin arched his back and gasped for breath. No mistake now, he was definitely turned on and ready to go again, and Douglas’ hand gripped his hip as he squirmed, pulling him back against the solidity of his body.

‘I’m going to fuck you now,’ he said, lips touching Martin’s ear, ‘and I’m not going to stop until I knot you. Is that what you want?’

‘Yes,’ Martin whimpered. He gripped Douglas’ hand and lifted it off his hip, drew it down between his legs where his cock was most of the way hard again. ‘Touch me. Please, touch me, I want you to – _oh_.’

Douglas pushed forward once, hard, and Martin’s request tailed off in a gasp.

‘Of course I will.’ Douglas’ fingers curled around his cock, lifting it and stroking slowly, lazily. ‘God, you’re gorgeous like this, I couldn’t _not_ touch you even if I wanted to. Now kiss me.’

Martin twisted his head round for a kiss and Douglas thrust forward, making him cry out and clutch at the arm wrapped around his chest.

Martin lost track of time. Douglas’ knee between his legs kept his thighs spread and Douglas’ hand and cock held him pinned with pleasure until he couldn’t focus on anything else. He just kissed Douglas, and moaned, and dug his fingers into the possessive grip of Douglas’ arm around him while Douglas fucked him and stroked his cock so sweetly and so perfectly that Martin distantly thought he might cry with the sheer bliss of it. He came at some point – a deep, bone-shaking thing that rolled through him and stole his breath – and was limp with pleasure when he felt Douglas tense behind him, his movements growing jerkier and less certain.

‘Almost there,’ Douglas groaned heavily against his shoulder and Martin only moaned, seizing the hand that was still cupped over his groin.

‘Do it,’ he said, soaked in pleasure. ‘Come on, let me have it, I want to feel you–’

A loud noise interrupted him as Douglas stilled, buried as deeply as he could go, and Martin groaned as his knot began to swell.

‘Oh God,’ Douglas gasped, and Martin thrilled to hear him sounding so uncontrolled for the first time since they’d begun. ‘Oh God, oh God, I… I’m coming, oh Christ…’

A shudder ran through him and, faintly, Martin felt Douglas’ cock twitch in his arse. He pushed back, squeezing around Douglas to stimulate him as he came, and Douglas pressed his open mouth hard against Martin’s nape and failed to stay silent.

‘Fuck,’ Douglas said, when he could speak again, muscles loosening. ‘Fuck.’

He didn’t say anything else, seemingly content just to hug Martin close and stroke his chest and stomach, and after a couple of minutes he tensed.

‘Again?’ Martin asked, and Douglas gritted his teeth.

‘Yes,’ he said, clearly finding it difficult to speak. ‘Several times, usually, in one knotting. This is only the second, I’m sure that… _oh_.’

Douglas nuzzled against the side of Martin’s head as another orgasm shuddered through him, and Martin rubbed his cheek against Douglas’ forehead and squeezed his hand. It was a heady feeling to be so desired, to know that _he_ was the one Douglas wanted, and Martin closed his eyes and leaned back against Douglas’ chest, feeling Douglas gasp and thrust further into him.

‘Next time we do this I think I want it to be face to face,’ Martin murmured. ‘I want to be able to see you.’

 _And hold you_ , he thought. Douglas sounded so helpless that Martin wanted to hold him, and stroke his back as he came; omegas were always represented as the weaker sex but now Douglas clutched at him frantically, as though _he_ were the one in need of reassurance.

Martin drifted into a pleasurable doze, and stirred faintly when Douglas eventually softened and slipped out of him. He groaned a little in his sleep, turning over and reaching automatically for him, and felt Douglas’ arms solid around him and Douglas whispering ‘Sleep. No, that’s enough, sleep now.’

***

Martin woke up alone. A glance at the clock told him it was mid-afternoon, and the space in the bed next to him was still warm, so Douglas couldn’t have gone far. He lay there for a short while but, when Douglas didn’t return, he dragged himself out of bed. He’d have preferred to stay there; the ache of want had been banked down to a low burn, but it felt as though it wasn’t going to stay that way for long.

But Douglas must have grown bored with lying there waiting for Martin to wake up, it was only normal that he’d want to get up and do something. So Martin went to the bathroom to clean himself up, shivering faintly at his own touch between his legs, and pulled on T-shirt and pyjama bottoms before going to find him.

Douglas was in the kitchen, standing at the counter with sandwich ingredients spread around him, and Martin lingered awkwardly in the doorway and said ‘Hello.’

Douglas turned.

‘Martin!’ he said in surprise. ‘What are you doing up and about? I was sure you’d still be asleep for at least another half-hour.’

Even though, or perhaps because, Douglas had had his cock inside him not two hours previously, Martin felt suddenly shy, as though he didn’t know how to act around him.

‘I woke up,’ he said, and then inwardly kicked himself for stating the obvious.

‘So you did.’ Douglas crossed the kitchen and pulled Martin into a loose embrace, and Martin relaxed into it, nerves vanishing. ‘But I hadn’t intended for you to wake up alone. I was making something to eat, since we both missed lunch and you, I suspect, won’t have had much to eat for close on twenty-four hours now.’

‘True,’ Martin said, and Douglas hummed.

‘How are you feeling? I’d wanted to bring you some food but perhaps you’d rather go back to bed?’

Douglas’ hands wandered down to settle in the curve of Martin’s lower back and Martin closed his eyes at the curl of want in his belly. But Douglas must also be hungry, since they’d missed lunch, and so Martin said ‘No, this is fine,’ and forced himself to sit down at the kitchen table.

‘Right.’ Douglas looked at him narrowly, but returned to his sandwich making. ‘Are you sure you want them here? I could bring them to you in bed, if you like.’

Oh God, the idea of going back to bed with Douglas was definitely doing things for him, and he wasn’t thinking of anything so sedate as eating lunch. But he said ‘No. No, here’s fine.’

‘Right then.’

Douglas carried on with his preparations, and began talking about a book he’d just finished reading while Martin let Douglas’ voice wash soothingly over him and tried not to squirm in his seat. Sitting down like this made him acutely aware that he could feel the after-effects of Douglas fucking him: he wasn’t _sore_ , exactly, just achingly conscious of what they’d done, and he bit his lip as his cock twitched.

Douglas set a plate of sandwiches in front of him. Chicken and salad, his favourite, but they smelled odd, somehow, and he thanked Douglas with more enthusiasm than he really felt. Douglas sat down opposite him and bit into one of his own sandwiches, stretching his legs out to nudge a calf between Martin’s legs.

Martin picked up a sandwich and took a bite. It wasn’t bad, per se, but they didn’t seem to hold any interest for him, all his attention focussed on the way Douglas’ leg was almost spreading his knees for him. He felt himself starting to grow wet at the memory of Douglas inside him, Martin’s legs hitched up round his waist while he shuddered and came, and couldn’t stop himself shifting in his seat a little, trying to ease the sudden twist of want.

‘You’re not listening to a word I’m saying, are you?’

Martin looked up in alarm but Douglas didn’t look annoyed. Instead his eyes glinted with affection, and Martin offered a weak ‘Sorry. You were saying something about your book…?’

Douglas shook his head. ‘Doesn’t matter.’ He glanced at the mostly-untouched sandwiches on Martin’s plate and added ‘And I can’t help but notice that you don’t seem to be hungry, either.’

‘I…’ Martin set down the sandwich he was holding. ‘I’m sorry, they’re very good, I just…’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ Douglas waved his apology away. ‘They’ll keep.’

He stared at Martin, eyes shrewd, and Martin averted his gaze. His face was burning, desire rising in him again, and he squeezed Douglas’ leg between his knees minutely.

‘I think we need to go back to bed,’ Douglas said gently. ‘Am I right?’

Martin nodded, still looking elsewhere. ‘Sorry. I can’t… I’m not sure I can pay attention to–’

Douglas tutted at him. ‘Don’t keep apologising. To be honest, I’m impressed you made it out here at all; I’d fully counted on bringing you food in bed and you ignoring it in favour of other activities.’

Martin couldn’t find a response. He was growing wetter, he could feel it, and Douglas pushed his chair back from the table and held out a hand.

‘Come here,’ he said. He didn’t get up and, puzzled, Martin got out of his chair and walked around the table until Douglas could take his hand and pull him down into the chair, straddling his lap. Douglas took his face in his hands and kissed him, and Martin sank against him gratefully, too caught up in the kiss to care that it was making him leak and making familiar tension bloom in his lower back.

Douglas pushed his hands up under Martin’s T-shirt, stripping him out of it efficiently, and lowered his head to cover one of Martin’s nipples with his mouth. Martin groaned, clutching the hair at the back of Douglas’ head, and pushed into the touch. Douglas suckled at it, and nipped it gently with his lips covering his teeth, and alternated to give the other one the same treatment until Martin, driven almost to distraction, said ‘ _Please_. Oh God, Douglas, please, fuck me, now…’

‘Stand up,’ Douglas said, voice gravelly, and Martin obeyed. He’d expected Douglas to stand also, and lead him to the bedroom, but instead Douglas tugged his pyjamas down and off and leaned forward to rub his face against Martin’s bare stomach. His hands gripped Martin’s arse, holding him firmly in place, and Martin’s hands settled almost automatically on Douglas’ head.

‘Right,’ Douglas said, when he lifted his head. He raised himself a few inches off the chair, just enough to tug down his own pyjama bottoms, and Martin saw that he was hard already, his cock rising flushed and ready.

‘Here?’ Martin said, as Douglas tugged him back down into his lap. ‘I thought…’

‘I know what you thought,’ Douglas said, reaching around Martin to take himself in hand and push his cock through the slickness leaking from Martin. ‘But this position has a lot to recommend it. Now come on, you know what you need to do.’

The tease was driving him almost mad, and Martin planted his feet on the floor and lifted up, and when he eased himself back down then Douglas held steady and Martin’s head dropped back as Douglas’ cock pierced him and sank deep.

‘Oh God,’ he panted, and Douglas pressed kisses to his bared throat.

‘That’s it,’ he said. ‘Yes, that’s it, there you go.’

He let go of himself when he was fully seated, and gripped a double-handful of Martin’s arse.

‘In your own time,’ he said. ‘Now kiss me.’

Martin dipped his head to comply, and Douglas kissed him hard as his hands tightened and he encouraged Martin to lift and sink back down again. Martin did so, and moaned in pure relief at the feeling of Douglas’ cock moving inside him again.

‘Oh, that’s good,’ he groaned, pulling away from their kiss to squeeze his eyes shut. ‘Oh God, yes.’

He rolled his hips and Douglas grunted a little, one hand leaving Martin’s arse to reach down between them and take hold of his cock.

‘Let me do this for you,’ he said, when Martin cried out a little and writhed at the dual stimulation. ‘I want to see you come all over me.’

Martin gasped, and rocked faster and faster. His thighs were starting to ache with the effort of raising and lowering himself, but the pleasure of Douglas’ touch was getting stronger and stronger in him, and when Douglas bent his head to take one of Martin’s nipples back into his mouth then he sobbed and gripped a handful of Douglas’ hair.

‘Oh…’ he gasped, ‘oh… oh… oh…’

He tensed, shuddering. His orgasm was right there, almost within reach, and Douglas let go of his cock and reached down to grab his arse again, thrusting up from the chair and helping him along.

‘Touch yourself,’ Douglas panted. ‘Go on, make yourself come.’

Martin wrapped a hand around his cock, tugging at himself and leaning forward against Douglas when he felt his balls lift and tighten.

‘Almost,’ he groaned. ‘Don’t… don’t let me fall…’

He felt slightly precariously balanced, but Douglas’ hands firmed their grip and his arms tightened around Martin’s waist.

‘Never,’ Douglas grunted. ‘Go on.’

Martin stroked himself fiercely, and at last his cock jerked and pulsed weakly between them, while his arse fluttered and contracted and his spine arched helplessly. He sobbed through it, turning his face blindly when he felt Douglas kissing his cheek and catching his mouth for a proper kiss while waves of pleasure gripped him.

‘That’s it,’ Douglas said, letting go of Martin’s arse to wrap his arms more securely around him and hold him in place while he gasped for breath. ‘God, you’re lovely like that.’

Martin leaned more heavily against him. He felt limp, utterly wrung-out, and Douglas shifted on the chair beneath him and made a noise when Martin reached down and back to paw at where Douglas’ cock disappeared inside him.

‘You now,’ Martin said breathlessly, and Douglas made a noise of agreement.

‘I will,’ he said. ‘But not here. Let me take you back to bed so I can knot you properly.’

And with that he eased Martin off his lap and walked him back through to the bedroom on wobbly legs.

***

True to his word, Douglas took Martin back to bed, shoved a pillow under the small of his back, and shagged him until Martin had one hand buried in Douglas’ hair and the other white-knuckled on the headboard as he dragged his heels up the backs of Douglas’ thighs and came. Douglas didn’t change position when his knot swelled in Martin, only braced himself up on his forearms as long as he could while Martin pressed fervent kisses to his forehead and cheeks. When he thought that his weight was getting too much for Martin, he cautiously sat back on his heels and worked Martin’s hips into his lap, moving carefully to avoid tugging at where they were joined, and Martin caught hold of his hand and twined their fingers together.

Afterwards Martin felt slightly more clear-headed, and Douglas got up and fetched a warm damp cloth to clean them both up, grinning at Martin as he squirmed ticklishly under Douglas’ firm swipes. He took it away when he was done and, just as Martin was wondering whether to get up as well, he reappeared with the sandwiches and two large glasses of orange juice on a tray.

‘Here,’ he said, getting back into bed and propping himself up against the headboard, tucking the blankets around Martin without any apparent conscious decision to do so. ‘I know your sense of taste is probably a bit hyper-sensitive right now, but eat them if you can. You’ll need your strength, later.’

Martin shivered and obeyed. They didn’t taste _that_ odd, all things considered. Between his student house and Arthur’s catering then he’d certainly eaten worse, and the satisfied look on Douglas’ face made it well worth it.

Afterwards he stretched out to put his plate on the bedside table and then instantly rolled back over to snuggle close against Douglas; after the past few days of being alternately desperate for Douglas’ proximity and then overwhelmed by it, he now felt as though he couldn’t be close enough. From the way Douglas wrapped him up in his arms and rubbed his nose through the hair on the top of Martin’s head, the feeling was apparently mutual. There was nothing sexual in it, though, at least not yet; Martin felt slightly foolish and, after a short while, offered ‘Um, if you want to then we can get up. Or do… something.’

‘No,’ Douglas said indolently. ‘This is perfect; I think I’d like to keep you just as you are. But, that being said…’

He stretched out a hand to retrieve a book of short stories from the bedside table.

‘I read them when I can’t sleep,’ he said, by way of explanation. ‘Close your eyes and try to rest, if you can. Or if you feel the urge to do something other than resting,’ he arched a suggestive eyebrow, ‘then do let me know. Needless to say, I’m very interested in any ideas you may have in that direction.’

Martin rested his head against Douglas’ chest and closed his eyes, and Douglas’ voice washed gently over him as he read aloud from the book, keeping one arm around Martin and turning the pages one-handed. This was blissful; Martin had never noticed before how _wonderful_ Douglas’ natural scent was and he turned his face into Douglas’ chest and breathed it in, smiling when Douglas’ arm squeezed him briefly.

He dozed, off and on, while Douglas’ voice rumbled soothingly in his chest beneath Martin’s ear, and after an indeterminate amount of time he stirred. The vibration of Douglas’ chest beneath his head was now less soothing and more arousing, and Martin stretched languidly and slung a leg over both of Douglas’, arching his back slightly.

‘Hmmm.’ Douglas skimmed a hand down Martin’s back and Martin pushed up into it, helpless to stop himself. ‘Like that, is it? Well, if you’re ready to go again…’

And, as easy as that, he set aside the book and Martin leaned up for another kiss, reaching to cup Douglas’ face as Douglas gently parted Martin’s lips with his tongue.

***

This time Douglas took his own sweet time about things, laying Martin out on his front and bracing himself up on his hands so that he could rock into him achingly slowly, undoing Martin by inches. Martin hovered on the brink of orgasm for what felt like ages and, when it was over and he’d thoroughly soaked the towel shoved under him, Douglas refused to let him sink limply into sleep but nudged him.

‘I know it doesn’t appeal,’ he said, in response to Martin’s grumpy groan, ‘but you should try to stay awake if you can. It’s almost evening, and if you nap now then you’ll have problems sleeping later.’

‘Tired,’ Martin said plaintively, his eyelids leaden weights.

Douglas’ face softened and he pushed Martin’s hair back off his forehead. ‘I know you are. Come on, talk to me.’

He sat up and leaned back against the headboard and tugged Martin into his arms again, handing him a glass of orange juice and nudging him to drink it.

‘I never did get round to asking you,’ Douglas said. ‘Did you being an omega have anything to do with why it took you seven goes to get your licence?’

‘Yes,’ Martin said, putting the empty glass down and settling himself against Douglas. ‘They all thought I was ridiculous, trying to qualify when I was only going to work for a year, maximum, before settling down and spending all my time at home. Until I started lying about what I was, and from that point,’ he shrugged, ‘it was easy.’

‘Mmm,’ Douglas said, tensing subtly with what Martin could only assume was indignation on his behalf. ‘Well I’m glad you did start lying about it, if that was what it took. Mind you,’ and he smoothed a hand pointedly down Martin’s side, ‘I’m also very glad that I found out.’

Martin smiled, feeling like a purring cat under Douglas’ touch. He closed his eyes. Surely just resting them for five minutes couldn’t hurt, and Douglas was bound to wake him if he dozed off.

***

When Martin awoke, three hours later, he rubbed his eyes and glared accusingly at Douglas.

‘I thought you were going to keep me awake!’

‘Yes, well.’ Douglas shifted and looked awkward. ‘I did tell you that it’s not in my nature to force you to do something you didn’t really want to do. And you looked so tired.’

Martin smiled helplessly as he scrubbed his hands over his face, and when he lowered them he took another look at Douglas.

‘You’ve been through the shower,’ he said, and Douglas nodded.

‘I thought it might wake you, but you were sleeping so deeply. Do you want one?’

Martin became aware that his skin was sticky with dried sweat and come, and his mouth had a sour taste.

‘Oh God, yes,’ he said. ‘That sounds amazing.’

Douglas nudged him towards the bathroom. Martin took a long, hot shower and brushed his teeth and, when he came out, he found that Douglas had taken the opportunity to put fresh sheets on the bed.

‘Hello,’ Martin murmured, lingering in the doorway awkwardly.

‘There you are,’ Douglas said, coming to kiss him and running his hands down Martin’s damp skin. ‘Hello yourself. How are you feeling?’

‘Tired,’ Martin said, a little surprised. ‘Like I want to go to bed but just, um, to sleep.’

He looked up at Douglas.

‘That wasn’t so bad,’ he said. ‘I thought it was going to be worse, but three days like that would be fine.’

‘Yes,’ said Douglas. He seemed to find something amusing. ‘Well, let’s see what tomorrow brings.’

***

The second day Martin awoke already aching for Douglas’ touch, and he barely had to roll towards him before Douglas was there, running his hands over him and rumbling soothing words to him as he pulled Martin astride his hips. He fucked Martin like that, with Douglas leaning back against the headboard and Martin in his lap, his knees drawn up to support Martin’s back, and when he knotted him then Martin folded forwards so that he was lying against Douglas’ chest, his face in Douglas’ throat while Douglas gripped his hips and groaned.

Martin had been too quick to dismiss it the previous day as ‘not too bad’. He felt oddly _clingy_ all day, and couldn’t stand Douglas being out of his sight. It was ridiculous, since Douglas was only in the bathroom, or in the kitchen getting them both something to drink, but on one occasion he took so long about it that Martin got out of bed and pulled on the first thing he could find – a shirt of Douglas’ that was tossed over a chair – and went to find him.

‘Sorry,’ he said, leaning against the kitchen doorway on shaky legs and fiddling with a loose cuff. ‘I just thought I’d come and… see if you wanted any help.’

It was a feeble lie, and Douglas saw straight through it.

‘I hadn’t intended to take so long about it, but I had to find the extra tea bags I’d bought,’ Douglas said, coming to fold Martin into a loose hug. ‘Incidentally, you look better in my clothes than I do and that, I assure you, is really saying something. I’d try and persuade you to repeat the experiment during a flight, but I’d fear for our safety. Now let’s go back to bed.’

Douglas fucked him as often as he could manage, and when he pleaded the need for a break – for both Martin and himself – he spread Martin out on his front and gave him a massage. Martin hadn’t been prepared for how soothing it would be to have his alpha’s hands all over him, working the tension out of his muscles and loosening knots from his moving job that had been there so long they’d almost become permanent fixtures, and he all but dozed off under the attention.

Towards the end of the afternoon, though, Martin grew restless.

‘More,’ he said, turning to Douglas as soon as his heart rate had slowed and Douglas had slipped free of him.

‘I can’t,’ said Douglas, holding him close and rubbing his back. ‘God, you’ll be the death of me.’

‘ _Please_ ,’ Martin said desperately. ‘Please give me something, I can’t help it, I just want you in me _constantly_.’

He kicked his heel fretfully against the sheets and Douglas tightened his arms around him.

‘Hush, now,’ he said. ‘I have something that I think might help. Let me go for a moment.’

Martin untangled himself from Douglas, and scrubbed his hands through his hair when Douglas got up to leave, fighting the instinct to follow. He heard him clattering around in the kitchen, and when he returned he set a bowl of water on the bedside table and got back into bed.

‘I bought you something that I thought you might need,’ he said, lying on his side next to Martin and propping himself up on an elbow, running a calming hand down Martin’s stomach. ‘Because much as I wish I could have you twenty-four hours a day, I’m not as young as I was.’

Even through the unsatisfied ache winding its way through him, Martin heard the hint of self-deprecation in Douglas’ voice and pressed closer to him.

‘No,’ he said, ‘don’t say that, I want you now, just as you are–’

‘Thank you,’ Douglas said, letting Martin pull him in for a kiss. ‘Nevertheless…’

He reached behind him and returned to place something onto Martin’s stomach, heavy and still warm from the water it had been resting in.

‘What…’

Martin reached down and, even though he was lying there stark naked with Douglas’ come still warm and slick between his buttocks, blushed when he saw that it was a plug. Made of smooth, blue-grey glass, it had a bulbous head that tapered to a narrow stem and a flared base.

‘I liked the colour,’ Douglas said, taking it out of Martin’s hands and starting to trail it gently down his stomach, dipping it lightly into his navel. ‘It reminded me of your eyes. And I thought that this might help. Now spread your knees for me.’

Martin eagerly spread his legs, planting his feet on the mattress to lift his knees, and Douglas’ hand slid down further.

‘Easy now,’ Douglas breathed into his mouth, as Martin whimpered at the first teasing press against his hole. ‘Relax for me.’

Martin did, and then moaned when Douglas eased the plug into him, not stopping until it was properly seated.

‘There,’ he said, kissing Martin. ‘How’s that? Better?’

Martin moved his legs. It wasn’t quite as good as having Douglas in him but it was infinitely better than the nagging, unsatisfied ache that had been gnawing at him, and he sighed ‘Yes, better. Oh God, thank you,’ as he rolled over to nuzzle at Douglas’ jaw for a kiss, shivering as the plug moved inside him.

Douglas did the best he could, but even so Martin had a restless night’s sleep, tossing and turning until Douglas wrapped him in his arms and almost forcibly stilled him.

***

Martin didn’t remember much of the third day. He remembered waking early, frantic for Douglas’ touch and unappeased even with the thick weight of the plug in his arse, and clinging to him when they were done and Douglas’ cock had slipped free of him; he remembered begging and _pleading_ with Douglas to fuck him over and over, to pin him down and take him.

He remembered Douglas’ arms warm and strong around him, holding him in place while Douglas spooned up behind him and pushed into him, staying in him even after his knot had gone down and he’d begun to soften.

Later, towards the end of the day, Martin was exhausted but too wound up to sleep and Douglas pushed the plug into him and folded him into his solid embrace, stroking Martin’s sweat-damp hair out of his face and murmuring words of praise to him.

‘I want it to be over,’ Martin said at one point, utterly drained. He shifted his legs exhaustedly as the late afternoon sunlight streamed into the bedroom. ‘God, when is this going to stop, I’m not sure I can do this any more.’

‘I know,’ Douglas said. ‘I know. Soon, I suspect, so just hang on, you’re doing so well.’

Martin didn’t even remember falling asleep that night. He’d demanded that Douglas fuck him again and Douglas had spooned up behind him, pushing into him and then holding him steady as he rolled his hips, fucking Martin so gently that Martin had closed his eyes and let his head fall back against Douglas’ shoulder, buried in the sensations of being held like he was something to be cherished, until he sank into sleep.

***

The next morning, Martin stirred and opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed was the absence of the burn of arousal under his skin that had been nagging at him, and the next thing he noticed was that he felt _cooler_ , his temperature down from what it had been. For the past three days he’d been pushing away the covers that Douglas pulled over him, feeling smothered, and now he shivered a little in the cool air of the bedroom.

Douglas stirred in his sleep next to him, flinging an arm over Martin’s waist; Martin rolled towards him and then had to bite his tongue against a grunt of discomfort. He _ached_ , all over. Not just the soreness in his arse that would remind him, every time he sat down for the next day or two, that he’d been thoroughly shagged, but his thighs and stomach muscles also. He felt utterly worn out, and could only manage a feeble ‘Hello’ when Douglas opened his eyes.

‘Morning,’ Douglas said, rubbing a hand absently over Martin’s back. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Sore,’ Martin groaned, and reached down to ease the plug out of himself with a noise that made Douglas’ arms tighten around him instantly. ‘Oh God, I ache everywhere.’

Douglas winced in sympathy. ‘I imagine you do. Here, let me up and I’ll get you something.’

Martin smiled, closing his eyes. It was amazing to feel so cared for, and perhaps just the tiniest bit amusing to see Douglas – _Douglas_ – fretting over him like a mother hen, as though Martin hadn’t been competently looking after himself for years.

Douglas, Martin suspected, wouldn’t rest until he’d got up, and fetched painkillers, and run a hot bath to ease all Martin’s various muscle aches. They’d probably spend the day on the sofa, just curled up and watching films, since Douglas had warned him that alphas tended to be more tactile and attentive and generally _possessive_ over their omegas than usual in the aftermath of a heat, wanting to cement their claim.

But for now…

‘I’m alright for the moment,’ Martin said, curling further into the curve of Douglas’ body and sliding an arm around his waist. ‘I can wait for a bit. Right now I’d just like to stay here with you.’

‘Well,’ Douglas said, rolling onto his back so that Martin could pillow his head on Douglas’ shoulder and tucking the covers around him, ‘far be it from me to deny you, especially on such a marvellous idea.’

***

Martin dozed lightly, curled up against Douglas’ body, but at last he drifted awake to Douglas nudging him.

‘Much as I hate to wake you,’ Douglas said, fingers carding through the hair at Martin’s nape, ‘if you’re not yet hungry then I suspect you will be very soon.’

Martin groaned a little, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

‘ ’m fine,’ he mumbled. ‘I’ve been feeding and looking after myself for years, you know.’

‘I know,’ Douglas said. ‘Call it my self-preservation instinct, then, since I’ve seen how short-tempered you are on an empty stomach.’

Martin laughed, swatting at him, and Douglas caught his hand and drew it in close.

‘Indulge me,’ he murmured, pressing his mouth to the crown of Martin’s head. ‘Please. Up until the sixties, and the gender revolution, it was still customary for alphas to present omegas with some sort of small gift or token on the morning after a heat.’

Martin huffed, and Douglas insisted ‘Really. It’s a very old tradition, it goes back centuries. Back to the days when we were still living in caves, when the alpha would go out and slaughter something enormous to ensure a plentiful food supply in the early days of the omega’s pregnancy.’

‘But I’m not–’

‘I know.’ Douglas hugged him. ‘But instincts that evolved over thousands of years don’t disappear in a few decades, so please. Indulge me.’

‘Alright,’ Martin said, rubbing his cheek against Douglas’ shoulder, ‘if it means that much to you.’

‘It does,’ Douglas said. ‘Just count yourself lucky I’ve only bought supplies for breakfast, rather than an entire cow.’

And as Martin laughed Douglas nudged him. ‘Come on, let me up.’

Martin rolled away, feeling slightly bereft as Douglas freed himself and got up, and Douglas leaned in for a last quick kiss and said ‘You just stay there for a moment,’ before he left.

Martin flopped onto his back and yawned up at the ceiling. He felt fantastically lazy; it was a good thing that Douglas had blocked out that fourth day on the wall chart as he wasn’t sure he could bring himself to move even for the chance to go flying.

He heard Douglas turn the shower on, closed his eyes, and moment later – or so it seemed – Douglas was back and tugging at the covers.

‘Come on, you,’ he said. His hair was wet, and he smelled clean. ‘Up with you. I’ve run you a bath, for those sore muscles you’re bound to have.’

Martin rolled to the edge of the mattress and sat up, swinging his legs over the side. He groaned slightly as the movement set off twinges from his various muscles and Douglas, apparently perfectly serious, asked ‘Do you need me to carry you?’

‘ _No_.’

The idea of being carried like some helpless, swooning omega from a terrible Hollywood film drove Martin to his feet, and he walked through to the bathroom with as much dignity as he could muster.

The bath was two-thirds full of water, steam curling invitingly from the surface, and Martin sighed contentedly at the sight of it.

‘Go on,’ Douglas said, his hand in the small of Martin’s back and nudging him forwards gently. ‘Get in, it’ll do you good.’

Martin climbed into the hot water and sank back with a blissful groan, and Douglas disappeared only to re-enter as Martin was lathering up a sponge.

‘Here.’ Douglas placed a mug of tea on the floor by the bathtub and dropped a kiss on the top of Martin’s head. ‘Stay in as long as you like, but give me a shout when you’re thinking of getting out and I’ll start breakfast.’

‘I can help.’ Martin started to wash himself quickly, ignoring the twinges of his muscles. ‘Just give me a minute, I’ll come and help–’

But Douglas stilled him.

‘You just stay there,’ he said. ‘It’s fine. Relish the rare chance to lie around and be lazy for once.’

Douglas left again, and Martin leaned back against the tub and picked up his tea. He sipped at it, as the heat of the water soaked into him, and closed his eyes. Not counting hotels, the last time anyone had made breakfast for him had been his mother, when he was a child, and he stretched his limbs under the water, cautiously happy.

He lingered as long as he could, but eventually his stomach started to grumble and he called to Douglas that he was getting out. He scrubbed himself down vigorously, rinsing under the showerhead, and then grabbed a towel and wandered into the bedroom. The window was wide open to air the room and Martin smiled to himself as he saw that Douglas had already put fresh sheets on the bed and laid out the spare T-shirt and pyjamas that Martin had brought. Age-old instincts indeed.

Once dressed Martin made for the kitchen, smelling bacon and coffee, and as he entered he asked ‘Can I do anything to help?’

‘There you are.’ Douglas came to him, running a hand over Martin’s waist and rubbing his nose through Martin’s hair. ‘Perfect timing. Sit down, it’s ready.’

‘I’m not sure I can eat all that,’ Martin said doubtfully, eyeing the stack of bacon sandwiches Douglas had made, and Douglas raised an eyebrow at him.

‘You say that now, but I suspect that your body may have other ideas,’ he said, and once Martin got going then he was surprised at how quickly the sandwiches disappeared.

Afterwards he stood and carried his plate to the sink. Since Douglas had cooked it was only fair for him to wash up, and he ran the hot tap while ignoring Douglas’ frown and pithy ‘You know, technically you should be on the sofa with another cup of tea.’

Tea and the sofa sounded amazing at that moment, but Martin forced himself to stay where he was.

‘I’m alright,’ he protested stubbornly, and Douglas grumbled at him as he got up to help.

He baulked when Martin reached for the greasy pans, though, protesting that cups and plates were enough and that the pans could wait, and all but dragged Martin over to the sofa to resume watching the Poirot DVD that had been interrupted a few days ago.

Halfway through Douglas murmured ‘Tea?’ and Martin nodded, hitting the pause button and getting up before Douglas could move.

‘Sounds good,’ he said, forcing his sluggish limbs to move and walk through to the kitchen, and hoping that his walk wasn’t revealing how stiff and sore he was.

‘ _Martin._ ’ Douglas’ tone of voice told him he’d failed. ‘I can do that. I _should_ be doing that, in fact.’

‘Too late, I’m here now,’ Martin said, clattering around with tea things in an effort to liven himself up. He felt slow and heavy; pride kept him on his feet while he boiled the kettle and got out tea things, but he was relieved when he brought the tea over and could sink back down onto the sofa.

‘Stubborn bastard,’ Douglas grumbled at him pulling Martin to lean against him. ‘You shouldn’t be lifting a finger right now.’

‘I’m _fine_ ,’ Martin retorted. ‘I’ve not lost the use of my legs, nor of my brain. I can operate a kettle. I can _walk_.’

He set his tea on the table as Douglas said ‘I know you _can_. The point is you don’t have to; you should let yourself relax.’

‘Bloody nonsense,’ Martin insisted, and Douglas set his own tea down.

‘Such language,’ he rumbled at Martin as he mock-wrestled him into lying down, pulling Martin on top of him and holding him gently – _so_ gently – as though Martin was made of spun glass. ‘God, you’re going to be such work, aren’t you?’

Martin closed his eyes, ignoring the tone of Douglas’ voice to focus on the possessive clasp of Douglas’ hand at his nape. ‘I might be, yes.’

‘Well then.’ Douglas’ hands stroked along his spine, lingering over his shoulder blades. ‘You’re lucky I’m not afraid of hard work.’

Martin rubbed his face against Douglas’ chest as he grinned; Douglas’ feignedly weary tone couldn’t conceal the humour in his voice. Martin’s stomach was full of bacon sandwiches and tea, his body ached pleasantly, and Douglas’ hands on his back and scent in his nose made him all but melt with relaxation, his hindbrain insisting _safe_ and _warm_. He felt cared for – doted on, even – and he murmured ‘I _am_ lucky, it’s true.’

‘Well,’ Douglas huffed, even as he squeezed Martin closer. ‘I’m glad you feel that way.’

And he picked up the DVD remote to press ‘Play’ as Martin gave a sigh of pure contentment.

 

**End**


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